Winning Her Back
I found my favorite armchair, the one beneath the high east window, and started a novel of sweet sorrow and new beginnings.
Hours passed, and I hadn't a clue where I was, lost in the novel, as phrases of the poet swept me out of money's realm and forced closeness. And only when the heroine of the book was prepared to discover about her helpmeet did a gentle hand fall on my shoulder.
"Lila?"
I looked up to see Mrs. Blackwell standing over me, bathed in the halcyon light of the hallway. The literary magic was shattered by her presence.
"You came to check on me?" I said, closing the book and placing it on the side table.
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